Fun In the Boss's Office
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: Another delicious quickie at the CBI. Lisbon and Jane try to both manage and enjoy their mutual combustibility, with mixed results. 1-shot. No plot. Why start now? Warning! This story has strong sexual content. If you don't like that type of material, do not read this! Disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.


Teresa Lisbon had a rule. Honestly. She had to curb Patrick Jane somehow or he'd be jumping her for a quickie in the stairwell next. Her hard and fast rule was, "not in my office!" She had to have a sanctuary of her own. The attic was his, its cherry already busted, but it certainly was not subject to through traffic or official, necessary and unannounced employee visits, as was her office. But she had taken to keeping the blinds shut, in case her resolve would ever fail. She couldn't trust herself with Jane. Sex was too volatile between them, subject to mutual combustion at any time.

He'd insisted that every area he chose for their trysts, he had scouted and cleared for security problems himself. But none of that precluded the chance happening of someone wandering into those "safe" places and catching them. Of course, that was part of the thrill of the whole thing! Had she lost her mind, taking those kinds of chances with her reputation, her job and career? Well, people who would think so didn't have Patrick Jane on their tail, literally!

He was thrilling, irresistible and always satisfying, and he knew how to ignite her desire by touching her in ways that were almost secret to her. Why should she pass up something so delicious that might not ever come again in her life? She had to deal with reality. If he was going to press her, kiss her and touch her in those thoroughly knowing ways, she would eventually give in and she would be enthusiastic about it. No use to pretend otherwise or tell herself she had to stop. She knew she couldn't, wouldn't. Jane could make her want him without delay just by looking at her – that way.

But that man was hell on panties! Always a bit scandalized by the idea of crotchless panties, she now had a new appreciation for their utility! She might have to resort to buying them. Jane had torn so many of hers, some by accident, some with her permission and one pair at her demand, that he had begun replacing them. Lisbon was glad to find he had very excellent taste in lingerie. She had never felt so unendingly sexy in all her life, knowing what she was wearing under her work clothes.

She rode the elevator with Jane this morning, remembering the blistering tryst they'd had there, blushing and lowering her eyes to look sideways at Jane who was faking a silent whistle and looking at the ceiling. He didn't seem to be able to hold the nonchalant pucker, as it would dissolve into a small smile before he corralled it again.

Instead, Jane was noticing that Lisbon had worn a skirt today, trim to accent the enticing flare of her hips. She wasn't going to a meeting. What was she up to? His male bits stirred, convincing him that they should find out! He made a point to catch Lisbon's eye, look at her exposed legs and then gave her an inquiring arch of the eyebrow. She ignored him, but the corner of her mouth quirked just a little.

Lisbon knew that Jane would be all over her if she wore a skirt, but she considered it might be easier to make that change sometimes to accommodate their clandestine lovemaking than to have to practically undress or Jane to tear her panties trying to get at her. Those were the things a happily mated woman such as herself had to consider, and she did so gladly and with a certain wicked thrill. She was testing her theory today. Sex was absolutely inevitable before the day was out, and probably before noon. She sighed with a secretive grin, then eyed Jane watching her. And maybe after noon as well.

The woman between them had a sneezing fit, covering her nose with her hand, her eyes watering. Jane reached for his handkerchief and after fumbling his pockets briefly with a slight frown, he remembered. He had no handkerchief. These trysts with Lisbon were taking a toll on his supply.

"Sorry. I seem to be fresh out of handkerchiefs at the moment." He sneaked a smirking smile at Lisbon who went bright red. She knew exactly what had been happening to Jane's hankies.

The sneezing woman nodded her thanks to him, then turned her back to fish through her handbag without whatever was going on with her nose in full view.

When they left the elevator, Lisbon had gone straight into her office and shut the door.

Jane turned for the break room, made his tea and sat on his couch. The whole incident on the elevator had aroused him and he was sifting locations and plans through his mind for satisfying their drives for each other before the next call to murder would sound. He knew Lisbon was bound to be feeling the same way right now, although she would surely not admit it. They were as conditioned to furtive quickies in the building now as poor Pavlov's dog was to that bell!

Happening into one of their trysting places naturally had them thinking of how to manage the next. And they rode that elevator many times a day! They were racking up quite a list of other spots where they had enthusiastically nailed each other. The pool, that alcove in the parking garage, a women's bathroom, the company SUV and, of course, his attic. That had been a hot one! But they all were, with Lisbon as his partner.

Often demanding his hankies after their little trysts to cleanse her beautiful little sex-pinked and swollen-hot vulva after their furtive but vigorous lovemaking in secluded security-black locations, his Lisbon had dwindled his supply. He decided to remedy this by ordering them by the dozen instead of just a few at a time. He wouldn't go to the cheaper ones. He wanted her to have the gentlest, best quality for her sexy clean-ups, even if she refused to hand them back for washing, throwing them in a convenient trash can instead. Once they'd had access to paper towels, but they were too rough for that sensitive part of the body. And who wanted to deal with bathroom tissue tearing or leaving little balls? Those were the things a happily mated man such as himself had to consider, and he did so gladly and lovingly.

Add that to the happy expense of replacing the lingerie he'd torn to get at her. He'd ruined five pair of her panties, coupling in situations where they were rushed and overeager with lust. As a result, Jane had taken a healthy interest in women's lingerie. It had started from a sense of needing to replace the panties he was tearing. But going to lingerie shops to find them, he was fast developing an appreciation for all sorts of sexy underthings. He chalked up the expense as part of the happy dues for his happy life: a fortune in fine new panties and good quality handkerchiefs.

Of course, Jane was either well aware of what lay hidden because he had seen what she put on in the morning if he woke with her or diligently finding it out through the course of the day. He liked to tell Lisbon it was he who had really become Pavlov's dog and instead of salivating to a bell he'd learned to get an erection until he found out what underwear Lisbon was hiding on any given day. This was a complex chain of events because seeing her sexy underwear only made him want to get under them and that led to more torn panties. They both knew that it was normal for men to be aroused by women's lacy underwear, but Jane knew she had wrought a change in him, one that he fully intended to indulge and enjoy.

He knocked on her door and entered, closing the door behind him.

"Knocking is good, Jane. Then you wait for the other person to say, 'Come in,'" she chided.

Jane locked the door and Lisbon looked at him. She knew what that was about.

"That will take care of anyone barging in."

She pretended to ignore him, but said as she busied herself at her desk, "You know the rule, Jane. Not in here." She would at least try to hold the boundary. Maybe he would listen.

"It's the perfect place. Private. Yours. Locked door. You wore a skirt for a reason, Lisbon."

"And you think that reason is randy ole you."

"I know it is." Stepping behind her chair, he bent to kiss and nibble on her neck and ears. "If you give in first, Lisbon, we can finish in the time it takes us to argue about it." He bit an ear lobe and tongued the pain away when she hissed.

His warm breath washed over her skin, raising tiny bumps and stiffening her nipples. Her traitorous body would follow his touch. No sense pretending otherwise. "Okay."

"Really? So easy?"

"Let's try it your way and see how it goes."

"So, you did wear a skirt for us." He nipped the back of her neck at the hairline.

"Yes. Ahhhhhhh. I was hoping to save my panties." She turned her head to offer her lips, which Jane captured immediately, grasping her shoulders.

"Come out of here so I can kiss you properly."

She did as he asked. "This is not a marathon session, Patrick."

"Mmmmmm. I know. Get ready for me, Lisbon. I'm ready for you." Dipping his hips, he pressed his already erect cock against her pelvic bone and slid it up to her belly.

Lisbon hiked her skirt to take down her underwear.

"Here! Let me do that," Jane said in a loud whisper, turning her and taking a moment to look at her from behind.

She was wearing the "Siren Peach" ones that he'd bought her last week. Their glow decorated her ass rather than covered it.

"Neon peaches," he said, growling as he handled her cheeks before he would make them plain again. The waist was lacy and he watched, desire increasing as he slid the panties slowly down her rump to reveal her fleshy cheeks, listening to Lisbon quietly moan. When he had taken them completely to her knees, he pressed on her back to bend her over, then spread her wide, kneading the flesh like a kitten, to put his mouth on her for a kiss to drive her mad. She tried to move away from him.

"Oh! Jane! You don't know how I wish we had time for that. Ah!"

He grabbed her thighs, pulled her back and resumed kissing her thoroughly, wordlessly convincing her they had the time.

When he started licking her luscious sensitive tip, tonguing across her entire sex to reach it, she groaned instead, "Please suck that, Jane."

"Lie down on your back so I can reach it better."

She drew up a leg to pull her foot through the panty, stood up and stepped out of them completely, then practically threw herself on the couch, while Jane smirked surreptitiously at her enthusiasm.

Jane pushed her skirt back up, tapped the side of her hip to get her to lift up and then pushed it the rest of the way, lodging it under her waist. He resumed his attentions to her, pressing the sensitive organ it out of its hood with teeth covered and cushioned by his lips, to do as she'd asked, working it like a siphon and flicking it with his tongue while it was forced out. She came hard, and he flew along her body to reach her mouth, to catch her cries. While she was gliding into relaxation, a smile on her lips, he stood, got his belt loose, opened his trousers and dropped them with his underwear.

There was a knock at the door and the handle jiggled, rattling the locked door as it refused to open. They froze, not daring to make a rustle so that Lisbon could say, "Yes? Door's locked for a reason. This better be good."

"Boss?" It was Cho.

"What is it, Cho?

"We've been talking and we've come up with some ideas on a cold case."

"Sounds great. Let me just finish up this one little thing and I'll be right out."

"Should I get Jane?"

"No, he's on the couch in here. I'll get him up and we'll be right out."

"Okay, Boss. See you in a few clicks."

Jane was pointing to his proud flesh in broad pantomime, featuring it by pushing his hips forward. "I'm up," he said, "Not little." The interruption hadn't made him miss a beat, now even more eager to get into her.

"Use a condom." She dug in the pocket of her skirt and handed him the package.

"What? Do you have something to tell me, Teresa?"

"Yes, I do."

The two of them were mutually exclusive after a long history of celibacy and clean bills of health. Jane knew there had to be an awful joke in this somewhere, but his mouth was set in a grim line just the same. He raised both eyebrows at her to go ahead.

"I don't want us to mess up the couch. Solution? Condom."

"Pfffffft! Well, that will take the fun out of it."

"I don't see how."

"No. You wouldn't," he laughed. "You're carrying condoms in your skirt? Uh uh uh, Lisbon, you were planning this," he said in a singsong voice, smiling broadly. She ignored him.

"Here, sit down. You won't think it's so bad once I've worked it onto you." She sat next to him, skirt still at her waist. The evil chuckle she gave while looking at his cock made it lurch. He gave the packet to Lisbon and she was tearing it open as he sat on the sofa.

Jane watched her make a party of seating that condom! First she took the head of his standing flesh into her mouth and twirled her tongue around it several times. When she popped it out, still hot, she capped him with the condom, using her fingers to squeeze and work it on just right. Jane was already breathing hard and thrust himself forward to give her better access. She rolled it down, ringing him with her fingers as she layered it to him like a second skin. The moment she was finished, Jane toppled her onto her back, forcing her legs open by pushing them aside with his hips.

"That was very festive, Lisbon. I won't ask you how you learned it."

Her only response was to anchor her slim leg on top of the couch back. Jane plunged into her, knowing she would be wet and ready.

Lisbon felt herself close on him immediately, a contraction of lust taking hold as he entered her. She urged him deeper, deeper and curled her hips up to make it easier as he set a fast rhythm heightening the stimulation for himself to make up for the now minor gloving effect of the condom. The heat he created was molten nirvana to her. But the couch was creaking a little. She hoped the music coming from her computer would mask it.

As he got close to release, he grunted to her, "Where is it, Lisbon, where is that spot? Guide me to it."

"Shhhhhhh," she warned quietly. She had to stifle a giggle that her curled position and his state of gloved sexual near-extremis had disoriented him to her interior mapping. Lost in his memory palace somewhere no doubt.

"Lisbon," he hissed in a desperate whisper.

She altered her position just slightly and there he was, right on it! "Jane!" Her whisper was strained, helpless as the first contraction of her orgasm hit.

He was already pulsing, electrified inside his condom, and covered her mouth with a burning kiss to quiet further the cries they were already stifling themselves.

As they were straightening afterwards, Lisbon said, "That took too long. And it's just too risky. I'm going back to my rule. No sex in my office!" She picked up her handbag.

"Spoil sport. Where are you going? I wore a condom."

"Yes, but I've got me all over my face."

Patrick's mouth made a big "O" of realization, remembering where all his mouth had been.

"Now, go wash your face before someone picks up—me—on you!"

"Mmmm. But what if I want to savor you? And if anyone else is getting that close to my face, I'd like to know why. My face is for you, Lisbon."

She laughed at his silliness. "You idiot. Go wash your face or I'll give you a spit bath with one of your new hankies and we'll have to toss it."

"No hankies today. Remember? But they're on order – by the dozen!"

"Please. Just go wash your face."

He'd teased her enough, so he went to do what he'd planned anyway. They had a meeting to attend.


End file.
